Masks
by lyresdream
Summary: One-shot. The world is full of masks. Valentine knows this. Without a mask, your not normal. Valentine muses. Set during the movie. Undertones of Valentine/Helena


Welcome all. This is just a little one-shot that I was inspired to write after reading the novel. But yes, I did watch the move, and like both of Jim Henson's fantasy movies I.e. Labyrinth and Dark Crystal, I am fascinated and intrigued by these films. Just a heads up, I know I'm not the best grammar induced person in the world, but I think I did okay. I hope you enjoy this piece and I will equally enjoy hearing your thoughts and comments.

Disclaimer: I do not own MirrorMask, no matter how I wish it was otherwise.

* * *

She didn't wear a mask. And that was just wrong.

Ever since she walked into his practicing troupe, he couldn't help but wonder if she was sick. She had a face that _moved_. Faces weren't supposed to move. It disgusted and intrigued him at the same time. But she was polite and more importantly, she listened to him.

So as they went about in a deteriorating world, trying to put it back together again, circumstances and the promise of a rich reward kept him near her. She was looking for the MirrorMask she said, to wake the white queen. Wake the White Queen? Well, the queen was bound to be rich and powerful. And there was no where else to go. Besides, this moving face of Helena was compelling. He never knew faces could show what you were feeling. When Helena wasn't looking, he touched his mask, surprised how grateful he felt.

But her face…

When she was happy, the corners of her mouth turned up, and her eyes melted to a warm rich milk chocolate. When she was annoyed, her lips tightened and her brow puckered. How, he marveled, could she stand to have her feelings displayed so…nakedly?

As time went by, he didn't get used to the frankness in her emotions, but he became less and less disturbed by the soft moving features. So far their journey had taken them to the library, visiting an insane mask caretaker, retrieving the key from two statues, going to the white house and through something that Valentine didn't really want to know, being dumped in the middle of the Land of Shadows.

The world was deteriorating. They were all going to die no matter what, but he was an important man. Important man don't die poor. Whoever heard of an important man dying poor? So he turned in Helena and her moving face, got the reward and realized how much of a bastard he was. Helena would never forgive him. He would never forgive himself. But he had to try.

He went through the hundreds of locks and found the letter. Then he went to the palace to tell Helena that he was… he wasn't right as she was. Avoiding the guards was easy. No one wanted to be near the look alike princess of shadows. He walked through a garden and softly on the pavement to the stairs that led to the palace.

A lone dark figure stood draped in black. An uneasy feeling squeezed his innards like a coiled snake. Why was her hair was slicked into spikes?

For a moment, Valentine wondered if he had the wrong girl. She was all dark where Helena was white. Her night black dress clung to her like a second skin, a sharp contrast to Helena's white loose clothing. Her hair was spiky and hard where Helena's was soft and curled supply around her neck.

The girl was bouncing a glowing sphere ball with her back turned to him. Valentine watched her for a moment wondering how to approach her when fate intervened. The sphere ball slipped and bounced down the steps to land by his feet. Valentine picked it up, noticing how squishy it felt and looked up as she turned to finally face him.

'Oh God.' He cursed.

Where Helen's soft brown eyes were two empty black mirrors. Helen's face had make him uncomfortable yes, but over time, to his surprise, he started to look forward to seeing her lip curve up. He remembered his earlier wish to have her wear a mask and felt it like a ironic punch to the gut. She still wasn't wearing a mask but she didn't need to. Her face remained more blank then any mask could be.

He stepped forward, watching her blank eyes, waiting for her eyebrows to lower and her lips to sneer, eyes to burn in betrayal. But there was nothing. And he finally understood the cost of his greed.

_Helena…_

He had always hated seeing Helena mask less. But now her face was a mask.

And he hated it.


End file.
